


buy the farm, arm in arm

by finneli



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Coming Out, Hook-Up, Implied Hate Crime, Implied/Referenced Cheating, MLM WLW solidarity, Metaphors, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overuse of italics, Period-Typical Homophobia, because everyone seems to think so?, lesbians and gays supporting the FUCK out of each other BAY BEE, tags will be added after each oneshot is uploaded, whizzers real name is micah, y'know it's falsettos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:40:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22569517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finneli/pseuds/finneli
Summary: A collection of oneshots chronicling Whizzer and Cordelia's relationship, pre-, during, and post-Falsettos.Chapters will not be uploaded in chronological order. Each chapter will be named with the year in which it takes place.
Relationships: Cordelia & Trina (Falsettos), Whizzer Brown & Cordelia, Whizzer Brown & Trina, Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	1. Spring 1967

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micah Brown faces some uncomfortable truths about himself in the form of his girlfriend, Cordelia.

The moon reflected off the hood of Cordelia’s brother’s truck. Micah Brown wished it would just blind him as he sat on the rusty metal.

The two of them- Delia and Micah- had been dating for a few months, and now… well, the moment was perfect for them to _consummate_ their relationship. The night air was cool, but not frigid. They were able to steal the truck and drive it into the middle of nowhere. And… they were in love. They really were. Micah was head-over-heels in love with Cordelia.

But he felt nauseous as Delia climbed up onto his lap. She held his shirt collar and kissed him, and his stomach sank. He rested his hands on her waist as she slowly pushed him down to lie on his back, staring up at the stars. Then the blonde unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open.

 _Dear god, or gods, or fucking Jesus, or whoever the fuck is up there,_ he thought, _please just let me get through this. Let me go numb and give Cordelia what she wants and not feel a thing._

(Maybe he could get it up if he thought of Jack from his biology class. As soon as that thought occurred to him, guilt flooded his chest. Why couldn’t he just be normal for five seconds and do this one stupid thing for his favorite person in the whole goddamn world?)

He felt Cordelia unbuckle his belt. Unbutton his jeans. Unzip his fly…

“STOP!” He sat up so suddenly that Cordelia slipped off the hood of the car and onto the ground. She looked up, startled. Micah stared at her with wide eyes. “I’m- I’m sorry, Delia, I just- I just can’t do this, I-“

“Mikey, you’re pale as a ghost. Take some breaths.” She stood up, brushing herself off, and rezipped and rebuttoned his jeans. Her hands were soft and steady.

He pulled away. “No- fuck, no, we’ve been dating forever and I can’t even do this one goddamn thing for you-“

 _“Micah.”_ She buckled his belt and took his face in her hands. “It’s _okay._ Really. I don’t wanna do it unless you do.”

He nodded shakily. “Okay… I’m sor-“

“I don’t wanna hear it. No apologies needed, really.” She hopped up onto the hood of the truck, bumping their shoulders together and kicking her legs. “But if there’s something you wanna tell me…”

His blood ran cold. “No. There’s not. I’m just not really feeling it.”

“Baby. You’ve been acting real weird lately. All… sad and shit.” She shook her head, rubbing his shoulder. “I wanna help, Mikey! You know you can tell me anything!”

“… _Anything,_ anything?” He looked at her through the side of his eye.

She nodded quickly. “Anything, _anything_ anything.” She giggled, and Micah found himself smiling.

“What if I… I dunno. What if I committed a crime?”

“What crime? The fucker probably deserved it. There’s a crawlspace in my brother’s room, I can totally hide you from the police.” She took his hand in hers and squeezed it, smiling brightly. And Micah actually felt safe. And maybe this was a huge mistake, but…

“What if… I like… boys. Like, better than girls.” He stared at his hands. And Delia was quiet for a long time. He felt like he couldn’t breathe until she spoke up, an eternity later.

“Like, to kiss? To… have sex with?” He couldn’t gauge her tone, but he still couldn’t make himself look up at her.

“…yeah. To marry, too, I guess.” He slid off the truck and started pacing. “Which… _sucks_ of me _._ A _lot._ And I know that I’m breaking your heart right now, and you probably never wanna see me again, and you’re gonna tell all your friends and my parents are gonna find out and-“

He didn’t even realize he was hyperventilating until Cordelia’s arms wrapped around him from behind. “Shh, Micah. Breathe. Breathe, lovey. I won’t tell.”

“Y-you won’t?” He turned around in her arms, not even flinching at the pet name. She shook her head with a smile.

“Listen, I’m… a little sad that we can’t be in love for real, but I know that you really care about me, and I don’t wanna be with anyone but you.” She fixed his collar. “Any way I can.”

“About that.” He coughed. “I was wondering if… well, since you’re taking this so well… I know this is insanely selfish of me, and I promise I’ll come up with another plan as soon as possible, but-“

“Mikey, spit it out.” She gazed at him adoringly. “I’d run through fire for you. Just ask, I won’t be mad.”

“Right. It’s just… if we could stay together, for a while? As boyfriend and girlfriend? I don’t… I really don’t want anyone to find out I’m…”

“Queer,” she said softly. He gulped and nodded.

“Yeah. That.”

“Have you said it out loud yet?” She rubbed his back gently.

“What? Said what?”

“That you’re a queer.” _Jesus, how is this so easy for her to talk about?_

“… No. No, I… I’ve never said that.” He watched as she looked away, but not in an insecure way. In a way that meant she was thinking.

“I kinda think you should,” she decided, looking back at him so intensely that his heart skipped a beat.

He shrugged, trying to rebuild his casual demeanor. “Why? You got a tape recorder running?” he joked lightly.

She just rolled her eyes. “Micah.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “I’m… I’m a… No, this is so stupid. This is stupid. I can’t say this to you.” He pulled away.

She grabbed his arm and yanked him back into her arms. “Micah Brown, when will you get it through your thick skull that _I am here for you?!_ ”

He stared at her, blinking owlishly. He knew there was no point in fighting back. Cordelia always got what she wanted, especially from Micah. He’d give her the world.

“… I’m a queer.” He whispered.

“What? I didn’t quite hear you.” She grinned.

He blushed and pushed her away gently. “I’m a _queer._ ”

“You’re a what?” she asked louder.

“I’m a queer!” he laughed, meeting her volume.

“Yeah, you are!” Delia jumped into his arms and spun around with him. “You’re a queer, Mikey!”

Micah didn’t think he’d ever felt lighter than he did in that moment: dancing around with his best friend in the dead of night in Nowheresville, Nebraska.

Delia slowed down and leaned on the truck. “Yes,” she beamed brightly.

“… Yes what?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I’ll stay your girlfriend, dumbass.” She snorted, punching his arm.

“Cordelia, you really don’t have t-“

“I’ll be your fake girlfriend! We’ll have fake sex, and fake makeout sessions, and _real_ dates. Sound good?”

Relief flooded his body like it never had before in his life. “I mean, yeah, it sounds great to me. It sounds perfect. But… I just feel bad that you’ll miss out on finding a guy that loves you in all the ways you want.”

Cordelia shrugged, taking his hand in hers once again as they watched the stars. “Meh. I’ve never been super into dating anyway. You’re pretty much the only guy I like, actually.”

They both laughed, leaning on each other as the moon lit up the sky.


	2. Autumn 1978

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cordelia grills Whizzer about his latest hook-up, then tries to take things to another level.

“Marvin,” Whizzer said flippantly.

“ _Marvin_?” Cordelia repeated, laughing.

“Yes, _Marvin_. That’s his name.” He took a sip of his wine, stretching out more on the armchair. He swung his legs over the armrest, sitting sideways. “He’s, like, a billion years old, I dunno.”

“Is he hot?” Cordelia was curled up on the couch, smiling at him like she always did on nights like these- nights that the two of them wasted time in their shitty apartment together. Just being alone with each other.

“No, not particularly.” Whizzer shrugged.

She raised her eyebrows. “So he was a good fuck, then?”

“Oh, definitely not,” Whizzer scoffed into his drink.

Delia was quiet for a moment. “Okay, so… I don’t get it? If he isn’t hot, and he wasn’t good, then why are you holding his phone number?”

That… was a good question. Whizzer looked down at the business card in his hand, turning it over a few times. A bunch of business gibberish, some acronyms for different college degrees, and a phone number, circled in red with a ‘CALL ME, 8 AM TO 7 PM,’ which made Whizzer cringe because _what kind of maniac would call someone for sex at 8 in the fucking morning?_

Whizzer shrugged again. “He was just really into me. Nothing serious. I was gonna throw this card out anyway.”

Cordelia shook her head. “You’re a terrible liar, Brown, and you aren’t getting off that easy. Tell me everything. You met him…”

“When he and his wife asked for a family photo.” Whizzer finished his glass of wine, immediately holding it out to be refilled. At her unimpressed look, he said “What? If we’re gonna analyze every moment I’ve spent with this guy, I’m gonna need a drink.”

Delia sighed and poured him another glass. “So you met him while he was literally with his wife.”

“Yup.”

“And you still made a move.”

“Right.”

“Jesus, Whizzer, _why_? That’s so unlike you. What happened to staying away from closet cases?”

Whizzer took another moment to think. She was right, of course; what was he thinking? “I don’t…” He sighed. “Okay, here’s what happened.”

~~~

 _Whizzer sits at his desk, waiting for something-_ anything _\- to happen. Turns out kickstarting a photography business kinda sucks. It’s not that he has no clients. He’s had quite a few, and all of them have been very pleased with their photos. But photography isn’t really a business that enables having “regulars.”_

_The bell rings, signifying the door opening. He looks up to see the clearest closet case he thinks he’s ever seen. He even has his goddamn wife on his arm. Whizzer wants to laugh, but that’d be bad for business; instead, he puts on his public-relations smile and stands to shake their hands._

_They have a quick conversation- the couple wants a family portrait done, they’re looking around the area for a good photographer, yadda yadda. The man, introduced as Marvin because_ of course _that’s his name, spends the entire time staring at Whizzer, spellbound. Whizzer thinks he looks pathetic._

_Whizzer still thinks Marvin looks pathetic when he shoves Whizzer into the bathroom stall, frantically undoing his belt._

~~~

“Charming,” Delia said dryly.

“A true modern love story,” Whizzer teased.

Delia smiled. “Ah, yes, the modern love story where you hook up with a married man and then he _gives you a business card_.”

They both laughed. Whizzer feigned offense. “Excuse you, this is now my _most_ prized possession. I can hardly believe I’ve been gifted something so prestigious.”

“So are you gonna call him?” Delia asked, probably expecting a quick answer. When one didn’t come, she looked up.

And really, Whizzer wanted to say no. He wanted to laugh and ask who the hell she thought he was. But instead, he grimaced and looked up at her. “…I think I might.”

They were both silent for a moment. Then Delia said, “So you have a crush on him.”

Whizzer looked at her like she was insane. “A _crush_? No, Delia, I’m not in the third grade, actually.”

“Oh, please. You _totally_ wanna date this guy!”

Whizzer fake-gagged. “Ew. No. He’s, like, the worst. He’s Satan. Closeted Jewish Satan. Plus, I don’t _date_. I don’t date anyone. You know that.”

“Maybe you should start, huh?” She gazed at him with big eyes. “Maybe your heart is telling you that it’s lonely.”

“God, you’re weird.” He flipped through a few television channels until she grabbed his hand.

“Call him.”

He jerked his hand away like she burned him. “Are you insane?!”

“It’s only six thirty, call him!”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not?! I have every reason in the world not to do that!”

“I just wanna see what’ll happen!” She laughed. “Come ooon, this could be the love of your life here!”

“Have you forgotten that he’s married? And _awful_?”

“Well, fine. If you won’t call him… I will.” She held up the business card triumphantly.

Whizzer looked at his empty hands. “How the fuck did you-“

“I’m special like that.” She started dialing.

Whizzer groaned, putting his face in his hands. “Why are you like this?”

“Hello, I’d like to speak to Marvin please?” She stuck her tongue out at him.

Whizzer sighed heavily, trying to think back to the end of his and Marvin’s little hookup, hoping it’d tell him a bit about how this phone call might go.

~~~

_Whizzer wipes his mouth, getting to his feet. “Premature much?”_

_“Will you shut up?” Marvin looks almost panicked. “My wife’s outside, I have to be fast-“_

_“Aww,” Whizzer pouts. “Nothing for little old me then?”_

_Marvin chokes. “Absolutely not.”_

_Whizzer rolls his eyes, brushing off his knees. He was expecting that. This guy is shameless._

_Marvin darts toward the door, then stops abruptly. He pulls out a business card and scribbles something down on it, then holds it out to Whizzer._

_Whizzer blinks at him, eyebrows raised. “You’re giving me a business card.”_

_“Wh- yes, it has my phone number-“_

_“A business card. You’re giving the guy who just went down on you a business card so he’ll do it again? Am I getting this right?”_

_“Jesus,” Marvin hisses, dropping the card into Whizzer’s breast pocket. “You’re pretty, but you need to stop talking so much. I liked you better with your mouth full.” He whirls around and leaves, slamming the door._

_Whizzer stares after him. The business card feels like it’s burning a hole through his chest, setting his heart ablaze. He doesn’t move for a long time._

~~~

“He is?” Delia pouted, playing with the phone cord. “That’s too bad… No, don’t leave a message, I’ll call another time. Thank you. Okay, you too. Bye.” She hung up, giving Whizzer a teasing glare. “You got lucky this time. He’s out.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, strained, trying to cover up how he felt like he was going to throw up or cry or something. What was _happening_ to him? “Yeah, guess I did.”


	3. Spring, 1979 (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cordelia introduces Whizzer to a new friend of hers.

Whizzer strolled down the street, toward the café Cordelia told him about. She had spent the previous night cajoling him into meeting up with her and one of her friends from her weird Pilates class, and of course he’d eventually given in. Something about those damn baby blue eyes just never failed to break him down…

After ordering his drink and ignoring people’s blatant staring at his outfit _\- just a normal goddamn polo shirt and a jacket draped over his shoulder, folks, it’s called_ fashion _, for fuck’s sake_ \- he saw Cordelia waving to him excitedly from one of the back tables, chatting with a brunette woman.

He smiled and started to walk over. Then he stopped dead in his tracks after the brunette turned in her seat to look at him.

Because the woman staring at him with wide eyes and a pale face was Trina. Like, _Marvin’s_ _fucking_ _wife_ Trina.

And the last time Whizzer had seen Trina was when she caught Marvin fucking _him_.

“Mr. Brown,” Trina said, and Whizzer couldn’t tell from her expression and tone whether she was going to cry or beat the shit out of him. Likely both.

Cordelia, ever the ray of sunshine, started to say “Oh, you two have already met, that’s so gre-“

“Delia, this is the _person_ I was talking about,” Trina hissed to her, to which Cordelia just looked confused. Trina then gripped Delia’s hand, looking at her meaningfully. “The _other woman_.”

Whizzer’s blood ran cold. “Well- okay, that’s not quite fair-“

“Wait- your husband slept with Whizzer? _My_ Whizzer? Are you sure?” Delia asked, in shock.

“I mean, it’s a longer story than that-“

“What other _Whizzer_ would it be?!” Trina seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown. Whizzer felt a stab of guilt through his heart. Huh. That was new for him. Still, he wasn't a fan of Trina controlling the narrative about this.

“First of all, I resent being called the ‘ _other woman_ ,’ alright? I’m a man.” Whizzer put his coffee down on the table and crossed his arms, trying to ignore the cold pit of regret settling in his chest.

“You slept with my husband,” Trina said more forcefully and confidently than Whizzer had ever thought possible from her. “You _can’t_ tell me to go easy on your feelings after you _slept_ with my _husband_.”

Whizzer found himself unable to think of a response to that. Cordelia shook her head. “Whizzer, this isn’t true. Tell me this isn’t true. This can’t be true, right?”

“I mean…I did sleep with her husband,” Whizzer admitted under his breath.

Cordelia, his best friend in the entire world, glared at him disgustedly. “This… is a new low, Whiz, you know that?”

Which was _completely_ unfair for her to say, because, hello- “Cora, you were the one who _told_ me to call Marvin!”

It was quiet for a few moments after that. Trina’s gaze slowly turned to Cordelia, who was currently adding up all this new information in her head, putting together the whole story a bit slower than the two Jews at the table had done.

The blonde finally looked up sheepishly. "Wait... um... is your husband named Marvin?" she asked in a tiny voice. Trina buried her face in her hands, stifling a sob.

Whizzer felt the air grow tense. The other patrons of the café were slowly starting to stare at the three of them. People who had overheard their conversation were whispering to those who hadn't, and all of their gazes burned into Whizzer's skin. He felt them sneering at his hair, at his earrings, at the dark blue handkerchief in his back right pocket.

Cordelia touched Trina's hand. Luckily, Trina didn't pull away. So Delia continued. “I swear, Trina, babe, it was completely a joke, I didn’t know-“

“I don’t blame you, Cordelia,” Trina mumbled miserably. “It’s not your fault.”

Delia nodded and pulled Trina into her arms. Trina shrugged helplessly. "I just don't know what to do. I love him so much, I really do. But everything is always so awful..."

"Why don't you get a divorce?" Whizzer said softly, trying to solve things as easily as possible without attracting more attention.

Trina whipped her head up, giving him a glare that he swore was gonna kill him on the spot. "You'd love that. You'd _love_ that, huh? So you can- so you can convert him to being a fairy? So you can make him into a dirty queer? We go to synagogue every day, you know! We have a _son_! And I let you into my _house_ , I let you into my _family_... oh my god, Marvin said he and you were always going out to play racquetball, and I _believed_ that!" She sniffled. "Why would _Marvin_ ever do a _sport_?!" The poor woman started to laugh through her sobs, not knowing what else to do with herself.

The murmurs from the crowd around them grew louder. Whizzer heard people shifting in their seats behind them. The pit of regret in his chest quickly turned into icy fear.

Cordelia looked back up at Whizzer with sad eyes. "You should _go_ ," she said firmly, with finality.

Whizzer hesitated for a few moments, the whole world seeming to have gone silent save for Trina’s whimpers and his own heartbeat. Then he nodded confidently and strolled to the door, pretending not to notice the big, angry looking men following him out.


End file.
